


neither of us know what we're doing but it'll okay

by natodiangelo



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Crying, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Spoilers, set at the end of season 7, spoilers for season 6 and 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 08:33:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15991535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natodiangelo/pseuds/natodiangelo
Summary: This is sounding suspiciously like an emotional conversation." Hunk says.Keith laughs. "It's supposed to be.""I might cry." Hunk warns."I know.""Actually, I probably will cry, like, most definitely.""You're a crier. It's what you do." And Hunk snorts."Well," Hunk begins, "I think-""No." Keith cuts him off. "I wasn't done." He looks at his hands, the ragged fingernails short from stress. "You're one of the most compassionate people I've ever met.""You said that part already." Hunk teases."I was trying to get back in the mood." Keith pushes his shoulder.





	neither of us know what we're doing but it'll okay

**Author's Note:**

> i asked a guy out and he rejected me but were going to the movies tonight and hes driven me to work like 3 different times this last week so thats how my life is going

Hunk can't even remember the last time he felt wholly safe. 

Back on Earth, he guesses, back when the most trouble he had in his life was Lance sneaking out or dragging him into another one of his schemes. 

Back when he would get calls every other night from his mom, when they sent him care packages because they knew just how hard it was for him to get his comfort foods. 

That life feels like a dream. Long ago. Blurry around the edges. 

Too good to be true. 

The Garrison beds are just as he remembers – a little too firm, smelling strongly of the antiseptics used to clean them. The sheets, however, are well worn and soft from use and Hunk sinks down into them with a conflicting sense of homesickness and relief. 

How he had longed for Earth while in space – longed for the familiarity and the sense of belonging, longed for his family and the foods from his childhood. How he had longed for the routine and normality that he had taken for granted. 

And now? It's not even available to him. His family is gone. Hopefully alive. Earth is practically destroyed. There's nowhere safe to go – no place where he can sit and feel secure in the longevity of his life. 

_ He's _ supposed to be the safe place. He's supposed to be the savior that will bring Earth from the edges of despair. He's one of the paladins for the only chance the universe has for survival and he couldn't even save his  _ own parents. _

He isn't a stranger to insecurity – not by a long shot. He's well aacquainted with negative emotions and feelings that he would rather ignore, well acquainted with the restlessness it brings him. If they had the Castle of Lions, he would drag himself to the engine room to poke around and do inspections. If he had his Lion, he would do maintenance. 

But he doesn't. He has a building he barely remembers around him, no tools, no one to distract him. All he has is the clothes the Garrison provided him and the bed underneath him. 

This is probably the loneliest he's ever felt. Everyone off with their family reunions. People making plans and preparing to fight the Galra. Everyone doing *something*, everyone having a part to play except for him. 

He stands up with a frustrated grunt. He won't let this get the better of him. He still vaguely remembers this half of the Garrison - he'll search out a lab room, maybe try to scrounge up some tools and give himself something to do. 

He finds one pretty quickly. It's got everything he needs - some pieces of scrap metal that look well worked, a table with some clamps and a half built engine. Tools lay spread across the table, too, like it was set out just for him. 

He gets to work. 

The focus he once had - the focus he employed when working on projects like this, the kind that came easily to him, without thought - it's gone. He's picking up the wrong tools and tightening the wrong screws and not even realizing until it malfunctions. It shoots oil into his face at one point, and he wipes it off with a towel but can't help the frustration that's building in him. 

"Hunk?" 

He jumps - he can't help it, with how on edge he is. He jumps and turns to see who's talking to him, expecting some Garrison official to reprimand him for being in here without permission, but- 

It's Keith. 

Keith smiles at him, a little, as much as he can with everything they've been through. He looks as bad as Hunk feels - bags under his eyes nearly as dark as his iris', hair limp and greasy around his face. He's got some dirt on his cheek, Hunk thinks, or maybe it's a bruise. 

"Keith." Hunk says. "What's up?" He fidgets with the towel in his hand without even realizing it. 

"I..." Keith bites his lip. His eyes follow Hunk's hands, steady on the fingers carefully folding the towel. "You know I'm not good at talking to people." He says eventually. "But - Well, if you ever need to talk, I'm here." 

The sincerity of the statement hits Hunk like a truck - his chest tightens and - God, he hates how easily he cries, because just from those words tears are already collecting in his eyes. He turns back to the table so Keith can't see it. 

Keith really isn't the first person he'd go to for comfort. Lance would probably be his first choice, honestly - but right now  Lance would only cause him more jealousy than anything else. He's never even been all that close to Keith - doesn't think *anyone* has ever been all that close to Keith.

But here he is. Offering comfort. Giving support. 

So Hunk talks.

 

* * *

It's a testament to how off kilter Hunk has been that the realization only comes to him weeks later. 

Sendak killed. Earth saved. Life slowly trying to collect itself. Ever moving - preparations for large scale farming, rescue scouts to comb the ruined cities for survivors. Voltron is taking a well needed rest - only a week, maybe two, just to regain energy and make a plan. 

Hunk is sitting in the cafeteria. It feels weird to be here now. No longer just a cadet. He's sitting with Lance and Veronica, and they're talking about the group that should be coming in tomorrow - a group of rescues from the labor camp.

Hunk's parents are in that group. 

God, he  _ can't wait  _ to see them. He misses them so much. He wants to hug his mom and dad, wants to feel their warmth. To know for certain that they're alive. 

Lance is talking about that - about all the families they've reunited. It's amazing how many people survived. Not nearly as many as they would have liked, but more than expected, hiding in the crevasses and underground, evading the Galra soldiers day by day. 

"Matt is back," Lance says. "So Pidge has her family. Mine's all here." He smiles at Veronica. "Hunk's will be here tomorrow. Keith has his mom. We're all here." 

That's when Hunk realizes. Until recently, Keith didn't even know his family *existed*, much less was *alive*. Keith - Keith, who grew up basically on his own, who's lone-wolf act suddenly made a lot more sense, who was torn apart when Shiro went missing, who seemed like a completely different person after meeting his mom - 

Keith understands Hunk's situation so much better than even Hunk does himself. 

He stands up without thinking - his chair scrapes across the tile with an echoing screech. Lance stops mid-sentence to look at him. 

"Hunk?" 

"I, uh - Gotta go. To the bathroom." And he's rushing away. 

He probably should have thought this through - he doesn't know where Keith is. He could be out on a scout right now. Who knows? But Hunk heads to where he knows Keith's room is and hopes that he's there. 

(Maybe - maybe there is some kind of karma active in the world. Some force that looks upon them and decides what they deserve. What goods and bads they have stacked against them and what should happen next.) 

Keith opens the door almost before Hunk has finished knocking. 

"Hunk?" Keith looks tired, but not like he used to. Not tired like he's had years of bad sleep, years of isolation. Now it's tired like he's had a long day, which - they all have. They all more than deserve to be tired. "Is something wrong?" 

"Can I talk to you?" He asks. Keith looks a little surprised, but he smiles.

"Come on in." 

He goes in. 

Keith's room hasn't been changed much from the basic Garrison style - no decorations, a bed and a dresser and not much other space. He's got a quilt on his bed that doesn't look like Garrison provisions, though, and his clothes lay in a small pile on the floor. 

It looks lived in. So unlike the room he had kept on the Castle of Lions. 

"What's up?" Keith falls back onto his bed and combs his hair back from his face. 

"I - well," Hunk starts. He sits down stiffly next to Keith. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry." 

Keith blinks. "For what?" 

"The other day," Hunk says quickly. "When I was working on the engine and it didn't want to work - kept spraying oil somehow? But I don't think the oil tube was the problem so I'm not -" He pauses. "I'm sorry. I ramble when I'm nervous." 

"Yeah, I know." And Keith smiles. 

Hunk has been seeing a lot of Keith's smile lately. His stomach flips over. He fidgets with his hands.

"Anyways," He says. "I wanted to say thank you. And - and I'm sorry. For not realizing what you had going on before." 

Keith opens his mouth with a frown, but before he can say anything Hunk continues. 

"I mean - back at the beginning. Or - all along, really. You've gone through a lot, and - I don't think we were there for you enough." 

"Hunk," Keith has this look in his eye that Hunk can't quite name, but it reminds him strongly of Shiro - of responsibility and leadership. "We've all been through a lot. I know I wasn't the easiest person to be around before, but - none of that fault falls on you. On any of you." 

"But-" 

"Listen." And Keith is leaning forward into his space, his hair falling from where he had pushed it. "I'm going to be honest - I... wasn't in the best place when I first became a paladin. But I've grown. And I can tell you confidently that I wouldn't change anything." His eyes don't stray from Hunk's as he reaches out to take his hand. "You're one of the nicest people I've ever met, Hunk. Don't apologize for accepting someone else's kindness."

Hunk starts crying. He can't help himself – the tears have been there the whole time, hiding behind his eyes in wait. Hearing Keith that – hearing the sincerity and emotion behind the words-

"H- Hunk?" 

"What the hell, man?" Hunk sobs. "I was supposed to comfort  _ you!" _

Keith lets out a bubbly laugh. "So?"

"So!" Hunk sniffles, rubbing the hand not held in Keith's over his eyes. "So, you're - I -" He squeezes Keith's hand. "You're such a nice guy!" 

"Is that a bad thing?" Keith asks. 

"No!"

"Then why are you crying?"

And this time Hunk laughs, wet but clear.  _ "Because," _  He grabs the neck of his shirt and wipes his dripping nose. "I'm a crier. It's what I do when someone says something nice to me." 

"I meant it." Keith tells him. 

"I know." Hunk says. "That's why I'm crying."

 

* * *

(Keith doesn't hug him, exactly, but Hunk feels the warmth of it anyways.)

 

* * *

 

"Go fish."

"Fuck you, Pidge." 

"Hey!" Hunk smacks Lance's arm. "Be nice!" 

Pidge rolls her eyes. Lance sticks his tongue out. Hunk sighs. 

Things at the Garrison have calmed down to some extent. They're slowly making headway rebuilding the cities, and scouts come back weekly with rescues that are eager to help out. With so many people now there's a little more time to rest, which they all need. 

"Okay, Hunk," Pidge says. "You have a King." 

"I do?" 

"Yes, you do. Give it to me."

"Aren't you supposed to ask for it?"

"Only if I wasn't sure you had it. But you do. Hand it over." 

Hunk hands it over. Pidge slams another pair down onto the table. Lance groans. 

"This game is dumb." He says. 

"Only cause you're losing." 

"No!" Lance says. "It's cause it's stupid." 

"Pidge is right," Hunk agrees, adjusting the cards in his hand. "You can't win everything, Lance." 

"Who said I wanted to win everything?" Lance asks. "I don't need to win - this game just needs to stop being stupid." 

Hunk sighs. Lance tosses his cards down. Pidge reaches across the table to poke him. 

The door opens. 

Three sets of eyes turn toward the sound - Pidge still balanced on her knees to reach Lance, Hunk with his fingers running thoughtlessly over the edges of the cards. 

It's Keith. 

"Hey, Keith." Pidge says. She turns back to her task - and laughs as Lance lets out an undignified cry. 

"Hey." And Keith - Keith smiles. He doesn't cringe at the sound of Lance's scream. Doesn't roll his eyes. Doesn't seem upset at having to deal with them. He just seems like he's genuinely amused by the situation. 

Hunk's hit again by just how much Keith has changed. He knows that Keith has had more time than them to mature – those two years in the quantum abyss with his mom, nothing to do but to tell her about his life. Hunk hasn't asked about everything that happened there – it isn't his place, doesn't want to pry – but it's obvious that the effect it had was a positive one. 

"What's up?" Hunk asks him. 

"Well," Keith says, and something in his voice makes Hunk's chest tight. Pidge is still messing with Lance behind them, and as Keith continues his eyes roam over them. "I've been assigned a scouting mission, and I'm supposed to bring one of you guys with me." 

"What kind of scouting mission?" Pidge asks. Keith leans himself against the door jam. "I thought they stopped sending scout missions aside from the routine?" 

"They have," Keith says. "There's been rumors of another camp besides ours a couple dozen miles out. They wanted me to go check it out and make sure it wasn't some sort of alien beast that had survived. Told me not to go alone." 

"Alien beasts?" Hunk asks. 

"We haven't seen anything like that here so far." Lance says. 

"It's just a precaution." Keith shrugs. "I wasn't the one who planned it. Now, which one of you is coming with me?" 

Lance rolls his eyes. Pidge kicks him under the table. Hunk sighs. 

"I'll go." Hunk says, standing from the table. Lance falls across his abandoned seat and uses the leverage to try to reach Pidge. He shakes his head at the two of them as he and Keith leave the room. 

It's a quiet walk to the garage, but not an uncomfortable one. Keith swings the keys for the car around on one finger, and the jingle of the keys echoes across the hallway. People pass by – some that Hunk recognizes but most not, new Garrison recruits or civilians he never had the chance to meet. 

Things happened so fast. Even now, with the extra time to rest, Hunk hasn't been able to catch up. All the people. All the planning. All the preparation for when they depart back into space. 

It's too much. 

Keith unlocks the door to the garage and it opens with a metal screech. There's fortified tanks and the normal patrol rovers and and a couple of other machines Mr. Holt and the others have been developing, all lined up in tidy sections. Keith leads him to one without hesitation, swinging himself into the driver seat and smiling when Hunk hesitates. 

"Get in." He says. Hunk gets in. 

The drive itself is quiet, too, at first. Hunk fills the silence with random thoughts and stories from his past. He talks about all the mischief Lance got him into, how they were both almost thrown out. Talks about the late nights up studying. Talks about Pidge sliding her notes to them because she was always top of the class, top scores on the tests, and somehow had free time to make sure they understood everything, too. 

He talks until he can't think of what else to say, and they fall into a silence. Hunk watches the sandy landscape pass them by. 

"Hey, Keith," Hunk says. "Where is it exactly that we're supposed to be checking out, anyways?" 

"We're almost there." Keith tells him. 

"Do you think there's actually, like, monsters there? Cause, like, I have to be honest, I don't think I'm really up for fighting again right now." 

Keith laughs. 

"Why are you laughing?" Hunk asks. "I'm being serious! I mean, I would be fine since I have  _ you _ here, but, like, still." 

"I lied." Keith says. Hunk blinks. "There's no mission." 

"What?" 

"They haven't assigned us anything. Honestly, I'm not even supposed to  _ have _ the keys to one of these things, but they don't have to know that." 

"What?" Hunk repeats. "Then – why did we come out here?" 

"I wanted to talk." 

Hunk's stomach drops. He can't tell if it's a good or bad feeling – a general anxiety that could be anticipation, could be dread. Keith glances over at him, bangs falling in his eyes just a little, the start of a smile on his lips, but he turns back to the window before Hunk can really tell. 

"What – uh, what about?" 

"Well..." 

Keith pulls the car over. They're in the shadow of a cliff – towering tall, blocking out the relentless sun. There's the remains of what Hunk thinks might have once been buildings nearby, but they've been crushed so thoroughly that they might as well have been rocks to begin with, too.

"Well?" 

Keith's fingers tap restlessly on the steering wheel. 

"I think," Keith begins slowly. His voice is measured and quiet, and where a smile had been present before is now a look Hunk can't quite place. "I think you're an amazing person. You're kind. Smart." Keith grips the steering wheel tight for a moment, before releasing it all together. "You're one of the most compassionate people I've ever met." 

"This is sounding suspiciously like an emotional conversation." Hunk says. 

Keith laughs. "It's supposed to be." 

"I might cry." Hunk warns.

"I know." 

"Actually, I probably  _ will _ cry, like, most definitely." 

"You're a crier. It's what you do." And Hunk snorts. 

"Well," Hunk begins, " _I_ think-" 

"No." Keith cuts him off. "I wasn't done." He looks at his hands, the ragged fingernails short from stress. "You're one of the most compassionate people I've ever met." 

"You said that part already." Hunk teases.

"I was trying to get back in the mood." Keith pushes his shoulder. 

"You're funny." Keith continues. "You don't try to be, like Lance does, but you are. You're caring. You're honest. You're trusting. Protective." 

"Keith, where is this leading?" Hunk asks. His heart thumps a little harder when Keith looks up and meets his gaze, eyes unrelenting and so dark Hunk imagines he can see stars in them. 

"I like you." 

And Hunk falls apart. 

Not literally. He sits there, and Keith watches him for a moment, a little concerned, a little nervous, before his eyes slide back to his hands. Hunk opens his mouth a little like he's going to say something but – but he doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know what he's feeling. 

"I like you, too, buddy." Hunk says with a weak laugh. Keith shakes his head. 

"Not like that." 

"Not like what?"

"Not like friends." 

Hunk swallows. Maybe – maybe he knew this was coming. Hoped this was coming. Wanted this to be coming. Maybe that feeling he's had – the one when Keith smiles, the one he thought was just happiness at seeing how much Keith has changed – maybe that feeling been mounting, maybe it's been growing, and maybe – maybe he's been denying it in himself for the last couple of weeks. 

He's liked people. He's listened to Lance talk about liking people. He's asked people out, and been rejected, and spent a couple of days in mourning before going on with his life. 

His heartbeat sounds so loud in his ears. 

"Not like friends." He repeats. 

Keith nods. "Not like friends." 

Is it that feeling that clouds his mind? An anticipation for – for he doesn't even know what, an anticipation for something new, something mysterious. Is that what clogs his throat? What makes his heart beat five times as hard? Is that what makes his hearing so acute, to where he can hear each of Keith's breathes, in and out? Or what makes his sense of touch so sensitive, where he can feel where Keith had pressed his hand against his shoulder only minutes earlier? 

"So, then, are you asking me – asking me out?" Hunk asks. 

Keith shrugs. "Yeah, I guess. If you would want to." 

Does he want to? His heart jumps. 

"Um," Hunk says. "Yeah, sure." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

Keith releases a slow breath. "Okay, yeah, cool." 

"Cool." 

Hunk picks at his nails. Keith's hands go to the steering wheel again. 

Hunk sighs. "This is awkward." 

Keith laughs. "Yeah." 

It goes silent again. 

"I, uh." Keith says. "I guess I could drive us back, now. If you want." 

"Oh, um. Yeah, sure, whatever." 

Keith drives them back. 

Hunk really doesn't know what he's doing. He's never dated. Lance has been out a couple times, and has told him about it in detail, but that hasn't – that hasn't actually prepared him for this. Yeah, sure, Keith is  _ cute, _ and, like, Hunk likes being around him, and, well, his smile does send Hunk's chest into a frenzy, and maybe he has realized that before, maybe he's been aware of it, maybe he's been lying to himself because he sits there, watching the blush on Keith's cheeks fade, watching his hands restlessly grip the wheel, looking at the person he's – the person that just  _ asked him out, _ watching the person who he just  _ agreed to go out with- _

Hunk's stomach flips. He likes Keith.

The ride back seems shorter, though it takes the same time. Keith pulls into the garage and parks, and they both hop out, and they stand there, next to each other, both not quite ready to make eye contact but neither ready to walk away. 

"Um," Hunk says, and he glances at Keith's face – looks at his eyes again, and maybe the atmosphere is affecting him – maybe there's something in the air, maybe he's been poisoned and is slowly dying, but – when Keith smiles, lopsided and nervous, Hunk nearly melts. 

"Hunk," Keith says. 

"Yeah?" 

"I, uh." Keith swallows. "Can I kiss you?" 

Hunk didn't think his stomach could get any more twisted up.

"Yeah." 

And Keith does.

**Author's Note:**

> anyways i havent written in like 4 months so im sorry if this is shitty but depression has been Eating My Ass


End file.
